‘Never trust a gun in female hands,’ grumbled Hilary, dropping the nun’s habit and backing to join his friend. Full as she was of him, it felt good to shower her kill out of her hair. Whatever may happen to-morrow I shall be none the better for anticipating its miseries to-day. “You are very kind to think of it,” she said, “but—don’t you think perhaps—that I had better not?” He smiled indulgently. Rather a hazardous spot for a convalescent, and McClintock had been doubtful at first; but Spurlock declared that he was a good sailor, which was true. That glove is still preserved.
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